| Trippy niggas getting all the hoes, well, I suppose
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| When I pull up they be marching slut walk, no Amber Rose
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| And my niggas keep it locked and cocked
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| Still rep that indigo
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| Told my nigga AK «drop the top», I’m steaming, fuck the law
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| Niggas sippin with my cogniac, I’m in the party smack
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| Run the team just like a quarterback
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| AK that Warren Sapp
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| Flatbush, we evolving rap
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| And now we tour the map
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| Came a long way, that’s a fact
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| Look at where we started at
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| Now let’s get lit
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| Fuck whoever run this bitch
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| I’ma still spark up my shit
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| Don’t drink liquor with you niggas, only drink that shit with hoes
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| My clique sicka, skinny nigga, but you know I bring the noise
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| The young tripper can’t hit with you
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| Nigga picky with his dope
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| The big dipper fuck you niggas
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| Hope in jail you drop the soap
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| Now that’s fucked up
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| I told shorty «come in close, I can’t see you through the smoke»
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| Now my spliff thick like a cigar, take a picture Al Capone
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| This at least an ounce inside my shit, you niggas need some more
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| Smoking hookah you’se a loser
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| Only thing I blow is dope
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| I see through ya, you can’t fool us
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| Ain’t no way that you the boss
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| Ain’t no way, oh nah
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| Ain’t no way that you the boss
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| We got much more for that cause
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| Pick your poison, serve that raw
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| Roll it then light it don’t know what the time is
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| But I’ve been whipping while your soul was reclining
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| Every mission had to know where to find it
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| But it was written so I always was fine
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| Niggas be backwards, got clips for you actors
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| Got dick for your bitch but no rent for the pastor
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| Roll with a set and we cold like Alaska
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| Breath holding like asthma
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| Don’t let the rolls catch you
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| Focus, I’m faster, much older now
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| It’s a new chapter my page turning over
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| Check out my status cause shit automatic
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| Look like a chalice the spliff had me balanced, you know it
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| While they be talking about passion I show it
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| Had to free my mind of attachments and grow up
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| Couldn’t be defined by some shit I ain’t born with
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| Had to read the sign and take heed to the omens
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| Oh man, should have told her I don’t do the lowens
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| I just poke her face like Lady Gaga slowin'
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| Now she scratch my back like her first name is Logan
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| Hit her with a dab and I’m gone like I’m stolen
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| Got to bust a bag of that dank every mornin'
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| Put a nigga pain in the beat for a moment
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| The reefer we blowin' bring me paranoia
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| But with paranoia I’m still shittin' on you
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| With paranoia I’m still shittin' on you
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| Reefer we blowin' bring me paranoia
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| But with paranoia I’m still shittin' on you
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| With paranoia I’m still shitting on you
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| Reefer we blowin' bring me paranoia
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| But with paranoia I’m still shitting on ya
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| It was grade A, she done got a diploma
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| Got steak on my plate, to be honest still starvin'
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| Like «where is my porridge, I burn up a forest»
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| I sticky like Horus
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| My plug is a florist
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| Won’t stop until my pockets thicker than Norbit
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| Won’t stop until my closet filled with that foreign
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| Fuck the coppers, don’t protect, they destroy us
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| So keep that chopper by your side like an organ |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Al Capone, artist - The Underachievers. Album song It Happened In Flatbush, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп